


Ramsay Snow gets his ass killed by Lady Death.

by Worffan101



Series: Four Badasses In Westeros [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: I blame AH.com, Lady Death is a badass, Period-Typical Sexism, Pure catharsis, Ramsay is his own warning, Ramsay is scum, per her idiom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short one-shot from my ongoing series about four badass real-world soldiers in Westeros, and an entry for AH.com's First Annual Ramsay Snow Kill-Off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ramsay Snow gets his ass killed by Lady Death.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This is set at least 2 years after part 3, "Joffrey Waters Goes To The Wall". I figured that the badasses are pretty important by then. 
> 
> Lyudmila Pavlichenko is a soldier, not a counselor. She is not good with traumatized civilians. However, she's still a decent person, and has a tolerance for Ramsay's antics that can be measured in negative values. 
> 
> This was written for an AH.com kill-off competition, and is therefore pure catharsis (namely, Ramsay Scumbag getting lead come-uppance). Don't expect much more than that. :)

"I must thank Lord Bolton," said Ser Simo Häyhä cheerfully. By his side, Her Ladyship _смерть леді_ , Lyudmila Pavlichenko, snorted.  
  
"Good deer, yes, not a bad hunt at all. But don't tell me you didn't get the same feeling from that creep."  
  
"Oh, I have no doubt that Lord Bolton is a very bad man! But still, no reason not to be polite, no?" The White Death finished wrapping the elk's leg and tied it to the sled, out of reach of the dog team. "That was a good hunt, very wily deer! Red deer, I think. The large sort."  
  
"No, the antlers are all wrong," Lady Death disagreed. "Still, though, you are correct that it was kind of him to allow us to hunt on his lands."  
  
"True. Very kind of him, especially with him in Winterfell with Lord Stark, and Lord Stark having Juutilainen do the basic training on Lord Bolton's lands!"  
  
"Yes. Although perhaps he is trying to please Lord Stark. Come, we should return to camp. Feed the recruits, then you owe me a story about what you call _Talvisota_ , yes?"  
  
Simo grumbled good-naturedly. "Yes, yes, you won, shot the deer first. Good shooting, too." The Finn took his place on the sled, but Lyudmila held up a hand.  
  
"Wait. I hear something." Simo stilled, then nodded.  
  
"I, too. Dogs, distant but getting closer."  
  
Lyudmila drew her pistol, just in case. "You take the tree, _Біла смерть_."  
  
_Valkoinen kuolema_ was already on his way up the tree, settling into a nook twenty feet up.  
  
Lyudmila herself cocked her pistol and peered through the trees. There were no hunting parties out here, which meant wild dogs, most likely. She could take them, even without the Finn; the alternatives were more serious. Wait. That was a scream. " _Біла смерть_ , you hear that?"  
  
White Death, nearly invisible, moved his hand to motion an _of course!_   back in the four soldiers' pidgin sign language. Lyudmila smiled in spite of herself. She might marry that man yet, Finn or not. There were few enough men who could shoot and appreciate a soldier woman, even before she'd woken up in this shitty place.  
  
There. Movement. Someone running through the woods. Lyudmila moved behind a tree, knowing that the Finn would be tracking the prey. She looked back up; somehow the man had vanished almost completely into the fir tree's branches. Damn Finnish sonofabitch was _good_. Needed to be roped down soon, for sure. But Lyudmila still had things that she wanted to do before getting tied down.  
  
"Freeze!" barked Lady Death, pulling up her gun as she stepped out from behind the...  
  
She had a moment to see a terrified teenaged girl in torn clothes streaked in mud and something darker, before she was flat on her ass and the girl was screaming hoarsely in between gasps for breath. Shit, the pistol--in her hand. Good. Lyudmila flipped the girl over and holstered her pistol; the girl was no threat to a Soviet soldier. "Quiet! Stop struggling! Who are you, where are the dogs?"  
  
"Please, please, don't let them catch me, please!"  
  
"Let who? Who is trying to catch you?" Lyudmila ignored her surroundings; the Finn would cover her, capitalist bastard that he was.  
  
"He's, he's, with his dogs he's...oh gods, he's here!"  
  
Lyudmila spun as she heard a vicious snarl, and saw a large, savage-looking dog enter the clearing...  
  
" _Біла смерть_ , _Стріляй!_ "  
  
There was a crack, and the dog fell with a hole in its head. The sled dogs, well-trained, hunkered down and made themselves small targets.  
  
The girl struggled and tried to flee; Lyudmila forced her down. "Stay! They will catch you if you try to run. _Біла смерть_ and I will kill them!"  
  
"He's coming, the bastard, he set them on me, his dogs..."  
  
"Who? Which bastard?" What sort of sick fuck set dogs on a girl like this? Lyudmila would introduce him to her pistol, that ought to be a useful instructional method.  
  
"The...the bastard of Bolton!"  
  
"Lord Bolton? Lord Bolton is in Winterfell with Lord Stark, you mean his son?"  
  
The girl whimpered and curled up. Shit, she looked frozen, too. " _Біла смерть_..."  
  
"Please! I do not need orders, I am not a stupid man!" wafted down from the tree. "You stay there, young lady, the lady sniper will protect you!" Another feral hound powered through the brush, slavering...and collapsed with a bullet between the eyes. "Bring her closer, lady sniper!"  
  
"Come," growled Lyudmila, perhaps a little more roughly than she should have, and hauled the girl to her feet, pulling her over to the tree. "Stay here, you will be safe." Feeling a little guilty, the Ukrainian shrugged off her fur jacket. "Here, wear this. It will keep you warm." The poor thing cowered in fear; Lyudmila felt her rage building, but sat on it. Intense emotion was bad for a sniper; you had to be calm to shoot straight.  
  
"Get 'em! Hunt her, go on!" bellowed a voice; male, Westerosi, Northern accent. Youngish, harsh, with an undertone that rubbed Lyudmila the wrong way. The sniper checked her pistol; all chambers still loaded. Good.  
  
Two more dogs. One took white death in the eye. The other tasted Lyudmila's pistol.  
  
"What? Who is there? Who dares interfere with the hunt of Ramsay Bolton, trueborn son of Lord Roose?" The speaker moved into view through the brush, an ugly, squat, mean-looking sort with piggy eyes. Lyudmila recognized him, unfortunately. Lord Bolton's bastard son, the one he'd had legitimized by the King now that his "trueborn" heir was dead. Lady Death raised her pistol, unswayed.  
  
"Put your hands in the air, you _трохи лайна_. Now!"  
  
"Who...oh, the little slut from the Winterfell men! Ha! Oh, I'm going to _enjoy_   having you after I've finished with my current prey." The man leered at the girl behind Lyudmila's legs. "Hello there, my dear."  
  
Lyudmila shot him in the knee. Ramsay fell, howling in pain. "Agh! Bitch! You fucking worthless slut, I'll flay you alive for that!"  
  
" _Біла смерть_ , _стріляти йому яйця_!" ordered Lyudmila. There was a snapping sound, and Ramsay howled in agony, blood blooming at his crotch. Lyudmila allowed herself a tight smile. "I think that you will find "having" us very hard now, _трохи лайна_." She stalked forwards, and calmly shot the man's hand as he reached for a blade, drawing another scream. "Surrender, now, and come quietly. Lord Stark may yet be merciful, as may your father."  
  
Naked fear shone in the man's eyes for a moment, but he covered it with bluster, licking his pale lips. "You wouldn't."  
  
Lyudmila jammed her pistol under the man's jaw, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. "I would." Ramsay whimpered softly, trying not to flinch.  
  
"You fucking bitch. You gods-damned slut, I'm going to..."  
  
"Shut up. Are you coming quietly or do I shoot you and bring your corpse?"  
  
"I'll kill you!" He lunged, but too slow. Lyudmila pulled the trigger. Ramsay's head half-exploded, brain and blood and bone chips splattering across the Ukrainian's face.  
  
Lyudmila stepped back and wiped her face on her sleeve. " _Насолоджуйтесь пекло, трохи придурок._ " She looked up to the tree. "Simo, I think that we have some explanations to make."  
  
"Perhaps," the Finn replied cheerfully, dropping down from the nook he'd been sitting in. "But I think you did well. That one was bad, very bad. Come, young lady! Lyudmila and I will take you to the camp, you will have venison and good meat stew! Good food, very filling, good for a growing young lady!"  
  
"I...I...I'd...I...thank you, Ser, I don't deserve..."  
  
"Nonsense! You have a very bad day, you deserve a good warm fire, maybe a sauna, and some good filling stew at least! Here, you can sit with Lyudmila! Do not worry, the dogs are very well-behaved, I trained them myself!"  
  
Slowly, the girl took her seat, and tried to offer Lady Death her coat back, which the Ukrainian refused categorically. "You need it more than me," Lady Death assured her new charge, throwing an arm around the girl's shoulders and tugging her close in as motherly of a grip as she could manage while Simo tied the corpse's ankles to the skis.  
  
Lord Bolton was angry when he heard, but even angrier when he heard how his bastard had been killed. Lyudmila even heard him mutter something about "that idiot, no consideration for reputation". And he was married to a fat Frey with a baby on the way four months later, anyway, so he couldn't have been that upset. Even though Simo and Lyudmila were politely requested to avoid the Bolton lands for a couple of years.

**Author's Note:**

> Intended translations:   
> Біла смерть: White Death (Simo)  
> смерть леді: Lady Death (Lyudmila)  
> Стріляй!: Shoot it!  
> трохи лайна: Little shit.   
> стріляти йому яйця: Shoot his balls off.   
> Насолоджуйтесь пекло, трохи придурок.: Enjoy hell, little fucker. 
> 
> Ukrainian is awesome. :)


End file.
